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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933616">On still nights in the AM</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirDance/pseuds/MirDance'>MirDance</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mystic Messenger (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, no beta we die</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:36:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirDance/pseuds/MirDance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jihyun Kim wakes from a nightmare</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>V | Kim Jihyun &amp; Main Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On still nights in the AM</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A very short drabble. Check out the tags. TW for PTSD symptoms and implied domestic violence.  Lots of Angst, little fluff</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On still nights in the AM, he often found himself frantically peering through the living room curtains to make sure the stars still hung in the sky.  There was nothing different on that night, a night the same as any other really.  He quickly shoved the edges of the curtain into the corner of the window.  He shouldn’t be having those problems at all, waking in a pool of his own sweat from nightmares long gone.  He paced around the coffee table a few times.  No, no good.  With his hand clutching his chest, he reopened the curtains, slid to the floor in front of the window, and leaned his forehead against the cool pane.  The glass fogged around him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some days were better than others.  Earlier he had woken with a jolt against a pillow that stuck to the back of his perspired neck.  His love had been sound asleep, softly snoring next to him.  His love does not know about the morning ritual to escape the nightmares.  There was nothing more he wanted than to run down the hall and to the bedroom to have them hold him in their arms.  To shout every detail.  Simultaneously, he wanted to open the window and jump into the bushes below to curl into a ball and sleep away from his love, a far away burden. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No matter how many times he paced around the table, how many times he gazed into the sky, how many times he counted to ten, the shadows found their way across his vision.  He was in the woods, yet his forehead remained cold and slick against the glass.   Like a bucket of water splashed onto a newly painted canvas, cloudy and dripping, he walked through the woods in his mind, his eyes throbbing against his skull.   Desperately, he attempted to find the North Star.  Any star.  Only clouds permeated.  Mists of pain that flooded his eye sockets. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was his fault, truly.  He had told her if she’d needed to break him, he would prove his love to her.  But…he’d been afraid.  Truly terrified despite straightening his shoulders in fake confidence.  His fingers had trembled, afraid to lose another thing, afraid to never be able to grasp warmth.  Even if he had deserved it…how could he have been so afraid?  If only he’d…if only. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The last time he’d seen those blonde waves, the harsh tree bark that clawed against his finger pads as he blindly made his way through the forest, bushes…twigs…snaps louder than booms…fingernails ripping around hot oil…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The grandfather clock chimed, and he struck his head against the windowpane, grounding him to the present.  Hard flooring beneath his knees, the soft, white curtain between his fingers.  His heart throbbed wildly against his ears, and he heaved a cry down his esophagus as he stared into the sky.  It was still a cloudless night.  Thank God, it was still a cloudless night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe lying in the bush was really what he deserved for being so foolish.  But if his love were to find him in the morning, wouldn’t that just be even more burdensome?  It was best to keep cool and calm.  Hadn’t Jumin always said something of such nature?  Even a fool seems wise if he keeps his mouth shut? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jihyun…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arms enveloped his shoulders.  He sighed into the glass.  A guttural sob struggled to escape his sore lungs as his body shook against the one that held him tightly from behind.  Even in that dark living room, he could see the stars flickering down on them, feel the warmth and weight of his love's chest against his back. No clouds, no clouds, no clouds.  He was finally home. </p>
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